both at Paris, and to
think at her age, I am assisting in the formation of her mind, my dear
Dombey,' said Cleopatra, 'will be a perfect balm to me in the extremely
shattered state to which I shall be reduced.'

Edith turned her head suddenly. Her listless manner was exchanged, in
a moment, to one of burning interest, and, unseen in the darkness, she
attended closely to their conversation.

Mr Dombey would be delighted to leave Florence in such admirable
guardianship.

'My dear Dombey,' returned Cleopatra, 'a thousand thanks for your good
opinion. I feared you were going, with malice aforethought' as the
dreadful lawyers say--those horrid proses!--to condemn me to utter
solitude.'

'Why do me so great an injustice, my dear madam?' said Mr Dombey.

'Because my charming Florence tells me so positively she must go home
tomorrow, returned Cleopatra, that I began to be afraid, my dearest
Dombey, you were quite a Bashaw.'

'I assure you, madam!' said Mr Dombey, 'I have laid no commands on
Florence; and if I had, there are no commands like your wish.'

'My dear Dombey,' replied Cleopatra, what a courtier you are! Though
I'll not say so, either; for courtiers have no heart, and yours pervades
your farming life and character. And are you really going so early, my
dear Dombey!'

Oh, indeed! it was late, and Mr Dombey feared he must.

'Is this a fact, or is it all a dream!' lisped Cleopatra. 'Can I
believe, my dearest Dombey, that you are coming back tomorrow morning to
deprive me of my sweet companion; my own Edith!'

Mr Dombey, who was accustomed to take things literally, reminded Mrs
Skewton that they were to meet first at the church.

'The pang,' said Mrs Skewton, 'of consigning a child, even to you, my
dear Dombey, is one of the most excruciating imaginable, and combined
with a naturally delicate constitution, and the extreme stupidity of the
pastry-cook who has undertaken the breakfast, is almost too much for my
poor strength. But I shall rally, my dear Dombey, In the morning; do not
fear for me, or be uneasy on my account. Heaven bless you! My dearest
Edith!' she cried archly. 'Somebody is going, pet.'

Edith, who had turned her head again towards the window, and whose
interest in their conversation had ceased, rose up in her place, but
made no advance towards him, and said nothing. Mr Dombey, with a lofty
gallantry adapted to his dignity and the occasion, betook his creaking
boots towards her, put her hand